


Do Angels Exist in this World?

by indigospacehopper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, BAMF John, Basically Reichenbach but written in the Harry Potter universe, Character Death, Fluff, Gen, Gift Fic, Gryffindor John, Hogwarts, Implied Johnlock, Potterlock, Pre-Battle of Hogwarts, Prompt Fic, Ravenclaw Sherlock, Rewrite, Rewrite of Reichenbach, Suicide Attempt, Teenlock, WIP, ambiguous ending, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:14:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigospacehopper/pseuds/indigospacehopper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During their sixth year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are forced to takle one of their greatest challenges yet. </p><p>Jim Moriarty, a Slytherin student who was expelled two years prior, has caused uproar in the wizarding community by breaking into Azkaban, Gringotts, and The Ministry of Magic - all with the hope of catching Sherlock's attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Angels Exist in this World?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This fic is the result of a prompt I was given on Instagram from An_Unexpected_Party, who asked for the BBC Sherlock episode: 'The Reichenbach Fall', to be written in the Harry Potter Universe. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> \- Natalie x

The pebble that John had lobbed sunk into the clear, dark depths of the lake with little effort. Ripples chased one another to the shore, and the blanket of voluminous cloud that seemed to have permanently wedged itself over the Scottish Highlands stood resolute, hanging across the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry like a bad smell.

He was in up to his ankles, standing barefoot on the smooth rocks and algae. While the wind bristled the leaves of the trees in the Forbidden Forest, John's hair remained still; completely immune to the less than welcoming weather. He inspected another pebble out of the many he held in his hand, before carelessly lobbing that one too.

"You can't take it out on the lake, as much fun as it is to skim rocks. All they'll do is sink."

John scowled as the voice drifted across the water from the shore, and he petulantly threw in another. 

"John..." That was more gentle, and John pretended not to hear the soft shuffling of plimsoles on wet pebbles, followed a short while later by small splashes as the figure grew closer to him. Her hand slipped into his, and John squeezed it lightly. He didn't especially want her company, but he was pleased it was there. 

Sediment swirled around his feet as he looked down at them, wriggling his toes. Ella squeezed his hand back. 

"You're supposed to be in transfiguration," she told him quietly, staring out across the lake. Her voice was almost exasperated, and John's lips curled upwards in one corner. He could have lost both arms and grown another head, and she'd still berate him for letting his studies slip. The Ravenclaw surveyed him closely. 

"I couldn't really stomach that lesson right now," John admitted. His voice was surprisingly calm, and he squinted slightly at the mountainous horizon. "Too much talking." 

Ella pursed her lips, watching him closely. Pity remained out of her face however, which John was thankful for. He'd had enough of everyone's sorrow for him. 

"That's what's bothering you?" She sighed, not believing him. "Too much talking--"

"... And not enough being said," John finished for her, running his thumb over the last rock in his hand. It sat in the centre of his palm, and John suddenly felt a wave of sentimentality wash over him; half tempted to not throw the rock in at all. Next to him, Ella gave John's sleeve a reassuring tug. 

"So that's what this is about," she mused aloud, and John glared at her.

"It's about him being dead, Ella,"  
John chastised, enclosing his fingers around the rock and squeezing it tightly. "There's nothing else to it."

"I think there is," Ella mumbled, clearly wanting to avoid an argument with him but being unable to hold back from expressing her opinion. "You're annoyed at all the rumours. About you, what happened, him..."

"He has a fucking name, Ella," John growled. "Just because he's dead doesn't mean that his name is, too."

Ella simply rolled her eyes, sighing sadly at the Gryffindor student standing at her side. He'd gone back to his standard muggle clothes, looking slightly out of place in the magical school grounds. 

Dark denim jeans were rolled three quarters of the way up, hanging loosely just above the water. He'd lost weight, picking up his deceased friend's old habits of forgetting to eat. The sleeves of his cardigan and shirt had been pushed up to his elbows, and a cream coloured beanie sat on his head; small tufts of his blonde fringe poking out from underneath. 

A large, thick raindrop landed in the water a few yards in front of them, and John scowled at the sky, silently daring it to get him wet. Ella squeezed his hand again.

"You're irritated by all the talking, about how it's easily coming out now, but now that he's gone you can't tell him directly."

"And what am I supposed to tell him?" John snapped, pulling his hand away and stuffing it into his pocket. He balled the last rock up in his fist, and angrily threw it into the lake. It landed further than the other rocks had done, but John didn't pay it any attention. As soon as it had left his hand he went back to staring at his feet.  
"I'm sorry, Ella, but there's really nothing to say. Not much good it'd do now, even if there was. I can't bloody well march up to a gravestone and talk at it, can I?"

He was seething, and for the first time since Ella had been drafted in by Madame Pomfrey to act as his personal diary, she looked slightly taken aback at John's short but sharp outburst. She opted to remain silent however, as John continued babbling. 

"... He's dead. And I know that people have died before, and I know I can't just mope around all day but he's dead. He's my best friend, and he's dead. What am I supposed to do? People will talk until it's old news, and Sherlock Holmes will simply go down in history as a teenager who ended up dead over a petty feud. Now fuck off and let me mourn in peace."


End file.
